One November day too many years ago now to count, I happened to be at Grandma Jean’s house the day she got out the old hand crank, cut up the apple and the orange, washed and picked through the cranberries and proceeded to make the traditional Thanksgiving relish.
It has without question become a treasured yearly tradition–one that is immune to busy schedules, sickness or the demands of life. We will make relish–together. As the fruit is prepared, the crank assembled and the handle turned, all is right in the world. It is the official welcome to the holiday season–it’s as if with each turn of the heavy metal and wooden crank, all the worries of life fade and the true meanings of Thanksgiving and Christmas come into focus.
Even now, my heart burns thinking of the year the old hand crank will be in my possession–with the relish my responsibility. I’m so grateful for the woman who’s taught me.
“I will sing of the LORD’s great love forever; with my mouth I will make your faithfulness known through all generations.” Ps 89:1